green-eyed monster
by epsilonxoxo
Summary: as requested by anonymous, an owen x reader fic where owen gets jealous! you can decide what happens next in your comments and reviews! rated m for language and possible smut ;)
1. part one

"How's it going?"

Rumbling vocals, a stubbled jaw against your temple— _Owen_. The knowledge of his presence invokes the beginnings of a smile and tension ebbs from your slight frame as you allow yourself to lean back into him, taking comfort in the familiar ridges of hard muscle under his shirt.

You search the air for the undeniable scent of his aftershave and frown slightly to find it absent. Had he forgotten it this morning? Maybe he'd sweated it off, you reason—his job did entail physical labor and quite a bit of it, after all.

A calloused finger taps on your skin and you belatedly realize he's still waiting for an answer. "Everything's running smoothly," you say, refocusing your gaze on the clipboard and its attached reports.

It's the truth. So far, anyway. You can't really complain, after all—with the park's disastrous history, even the "bad" days were okay, because everyone knew it could have been so much worse.

 _So_ much worse.

"No." His breath tickles your ear, smelling strangely of .. mint? _Owen, since when do you munch on mint?_ you wonder absently. "I meant _how_ are _you_?"

Oh. _Oh_. You blush at first as comprehension dawns, your own breath hitching when you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you back against him. And then your smile freezes on your face because you're flashing back to the previous night and the fight you two had had, about the latest velociraptor embryos and how Owen wanted to add them to his little squad when the time came.

You'd argued that you thought he might be spreading himself a little thin—with good reason, too, since he always seemed so stressed despite his obvious love for his job and the raptors. Strapped for time, too, never having enough time for coffee or a stroll—

 _That's it, isn't it?_ He'd interrupted you sharply, stepping back out of reach of your outstretched arms to stab an accusatory finger in your direction. _You're obsessing again. How many times have we talked about this? How many times do I have to remind you that this is my job, damn it—_

You squeeze your eyes closed and inhale deeply, pushing the nasty memory out of your mind. If he'd still been angry with you, he wouldn't have approached, right? This must be his olive branch. A ceasefire.

The stone of worry in your gut gets a little less heavy at that logic and relief is quick to flood your system, because truth be told, you probably wouldn't be able to handle losing Owen.

 _No Owen_ would mean so much more than just _no boyfriend_. It meant you wouldn't have anyone to text you silly things and raptor selfies, no one to randomly kiss you stupid during work hours or slap your ass when you walk by.

No one to wake you up and hold you tight when the nightmares happened. No one to mop the sweat from your brow and whisper sweet, tender nothings in your ear and rock you back to sleep. A peaceful sleep, free of the beastly horrors that had occurred almost an entire year ago in the northernmost regions of the island.

"Are—are we okay?" you whisper almost inaudibly, voice cracking across the words.

"Yeah," he answers, sounding a little confused. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Unwilling to say the words for the fear of breaking the fragile truce, you decide to leave it alone. "No reason. I just .. I miss you."

There's no words then, just the scratchy feel of his bearded jaw as he places a kiss along the sensitive hollow under your throat. You shiver and let your mind and eyes drift shut, forgetting that the two of you are supposed to be working and instead surrendering control over to the way he makes you feel. The way his fingers know just where to press and probe, when to give and when to just fucking _take_ it ..

You don't open your eyes when he turns you around and takes the clipboard from your grasp, setting it aside and drawing you close once more. It's only then that you begin to realize .. _Owen doesn't feel like Owen._

His hands are too gentle, almost tentative in their exploration of your body. They fumble, even trembling as they pass over your breasts.

Owen's domineering, no-nonsense attitude almost always bleeds over into his lovemaking. Rough but never rough enough to hurt, simply firm and seasoned. He's never fumbled anything. _Fondled_ , maybe ..

This Owen .. _is not your Owen._

A sick feeling replaces the passion and you already know you've fucked up before you open your eyes, but you still can't help but be stunned when you pull away and see who the imposter is.

Holy shit. The new kid?! _Freckles?!_

 _I did not just get felt up by fuckin' Freckles. Pubescent-faced awkward fumbling Freckles …_

He stares back at you almost sheepishly, watery blue eyes wide and apprehensive, a scarlet flush creeping along his throat. _How did I ever think he was Owen?_ You spend a long moment processing your disbelief and disgust and anger and finally you think you might be able to speak past the bile in your throat, to tell him you're going to forward him the bills for your therapy—

 _"What in the_ fuck _is going on here?"_

Oh, no. No, no. This cannot be happening. Owen's voice. Owen. Pissed Owen.

You turn and sure enough, it's Owen's broad-shouldered silhouette, the one you'd recognize anywhere, filling the doorway. The _real_ Owen, too, in a kind of glory you've never seen before and don't actually want to see because you just know it's going to end violently, just like you _know_ you're going to be sick, you're certain of it and you just barely manage to make it to one of the windows before you begin heaving.


	2. part two

You really, really wish you hadn't finished off your bottled water so quickly earlier and hadn't brushed off your assistant's offer to take over for a while so you could catch up on a little sleep, because you could use something to wash the taste of bile out of your mouth and some more sleep.

But the gross filth seems forever imprinted on your mouth and the walls of your throat, every intake of breath a sickening reminder that prompts the desire to puke all over again. And something tells you that even if you'd had all the sleep in the world, you still wouldn't be prepared for what's about to be unleashed.

Almost like that day when the Indominus nearly brought the park to its knees, except not quite, because you decide that you'd much rather face the Indominus than this. And despite everything, you feel the ghost of a smile pass over your lips, as you wonder whether or not Owen would appreciate being thought of as more threatening than the fearsome Indominus.

It looks like you're not the only one to share this idea, either, judging from the sounds that Freckleface is making: pained cries interpersed with howls of terror and the unmistakable thump of heels clicking against the enclosure's bars. You refuse to look, not wanting to see, until a new 'voice' joins in, a hauntingly familiar series of clicks and brrrr and ssssss. Like Owen, you'd recognize that voice anywhere- _Blue_.

She sounds so _near_ , almost as if she's in the corral with them and terror compels you to turn around before you can think better of it. The scene that greets your eyes is both reassuring and not.

Owen has the intern by the throat, holding him in place against the bars, easily despite Freckleface's struggles. On the other side of the bars is the dreaded velociraptor, evidently unable to restrain herself from taking part in her Alpha's wrath. She punctuates whatever threats Owen's whispering into the teenager's ear with promises of her own; a forelimb shoved through the bars and wrapped around Freckleface's thighs, serpentine tongue flickering against his opposite ear as he quaked in terror.

You look on in mute disbelief yourself, helpless to do anything but watch as Blue withdraws her head only to poke it through one of the spaces between the lower bars and, unbelievably, she sniffs at the intern's groin.

Even Owen takes notice of his beta's strange action, drawing back to observe with brows furrowed in a frown. "Blue, what're you-oh, shit. The kid _pissed_ himself?"

As if to offer confirmation, the velociraptor cocks her head to the side-and then laughs. Fucking _laughs_. Owen joins in, shaking his own head disbelievingly.

Honestly, you're surprised that you haven't peed a little yourself, just watching the whole thing. You're pretty sure Freckleface passed out the moment he felt Blue's scaled snout draw near his groin; his eyes are closed and he's gone limp within Owen's steely grasp.

The humiliating discovery seems to placate the trainer and he releases his quarry, though not before delivering a vicious kick to the collapsed kid's midsection. Then he steps away and it's your turn to bear the weight of the amber-eyed scrutiny, as Blue redirects her attention to you. A chuffing noise, a clink as she withdraws from the bars entirely-and then she's gone, disappearing into the foliage of her enclosure.

You're left alone with Owen and his- _kisses_?

Kisses that leave you feeling lightheaded and peaked, as if you have a fever. His arms wrap around you tight, lifting you off your feet like he lifted Freckleface by the throat and like Freckleface, you make an inarticulate noise, surrendering to the embrace and its entailments.

He tries to speak first but so do you and the two of you stumble over words before you barrel over him, raising your voice.

"Owen," you start. "I'm so-"

"Sorry, I know," he cuts you off. "So am I."

Wait, _what_?

Seeing your stunned disbelief, he takes charge, pressing a calloused palm to your cheek. "We both fucked up. Let's just leave it at that, alright? You almost fucked Freckleface, I fucked his face-"

You feel your mouth crimp at that, unsure whether to admit laughter or be disturbed and Owen cringes as he realizes how his last statement must've sounded.

"Okay, that didn't come out right. The point is-just, forget it, okay? All of it. I'm willing to forgive if you are. Freckleface made me realize .. I don't want to lose you just because I was a bullheaded idiot and-"

"You're not going to pursue custody of the velociraptor eggs?" you ask hopefully before you can stop yourself.

Owen's grimace deepens and he uses his free hand to scrub at his stubbled jaw, like he always does when he's nervous. "I didn't say that .. but I might be willing to compromise on some things if you are?"

The relief and joy that fills you is almost tangible and you nod, unable to speak. He grips you tight in a hug and the two of you are about to kiss until you belatedly realize something, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as your eyes widen in horror.

"Owen, I threw up and you-you kissed-"

His poker face is stellar. "I'm willing to forgive if you are."


End file.
